


69.06%

by hypophrenia



Series: letters to no one [3]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen, here we go again, im so sorry fellas [sad dab] but you know i had to do it to em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypophrenia/pseuds/hypophrenia
Summary: It's tradition at this point.





	69.06%

**Author's Note:**

> 69.06% is what fate/save calculator tells me my chance is and honestly? mood can u believe i got 69% 
> 
> at this point i dont think ill ever write anything decent again. gomen nasai uwu

Dear Merlin,

I have no interest in you besides the support you’d lend to the love of my life, Cu Chulainn Alter (and Enkidu, though less extreme). 

I wish I could still say that. Reading the Babylonia story was a death wish. If I hadn’t, you’d be the cool magician onii-san, overused dick wizard, meta god. And I’d only feel the knowledge of the AppMedia tierlist weighing down on me.

You are, without a doubt, a piece of trash. You, who orchestrated Artoria’s entire tragedy, you who loves the story of mankind, but not mankind itself; you, who cannot seem to understand emotions, but feels them anyways.

Reading Fate meta was suicide as well. To you, who could’ve stayed an overused, abused joke of a meme, I’ve got nothing but too many feelings for. Not love, not yet. You might be my type, the type to hide seriousness behind a pretty facade, but by no means have I grown out of my former opinion of you.

I don’t know why I’m writing such a letter—there’s no point. I’m destined to die a hollow death, surrounded by cigarette smoke and unpaid dues. And you’re pixels on a screen, unable to raise my grades, unable to provide money, unable to make me a better person.

(Not like you could, anyways, Mr. Human Trash.) 

I’ll drop that optimism I used to ooze without hesitation. You’ll be coming home, surely not by my hand, but by heeding my friend’s call. That’s what happened with Enkidu, isn’t it? Or you won’t be, at all, and again I’ll wallow in self pity until something shiner, newer, greater takes your place.

I’m just waiting for a death at this point. I mean, you’ve got clairyovance; you know who that death is for, don’t you? Such poetism, really, honestly. I’m a sucker for irony and tragedy and anything remotely in the bittersweet range. And this upcoming event fits well enough; I’ve been waiting for a year. Let’s go meet it together, shall we?

I’ve got two days to do what I can, then I’ll be on a plane and you’ll be shut down until I get a new phone, new SIM card, new data to save everything on. Two days won’t get me a sudden increase of money, or enough saint quartz for anything, really.

I wonder if it’ll even matter in a couple of days. It will, actually, and I’ll be heartbroken, but I’ve got better to do. Like grinding, for one. Solomon isn’t going to be defeated by himself, and those meager free quests won’t be solved on their own! _Someone’s_ got to run a Cu Alter solo purely by accident and watch the bond points rise, and that’s going to be all me.

See you tomorrow night, or maybe not at all. 

Sincerely,

Chaldea’s (only) master


End file.
